


Your Lips, My Lips

by RiverOfFandoms



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, First Time, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, POV Third Person, Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:55:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25913224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiverOfFandoms/pseuds/RiverOfFandoms
Summary: Negan finds Reader up to her old tricks again when he notices her sleeping at the end of his bed. He comforts her, she comforts him.
Relationships: Negan (Walking Dead)/Original Character(s)/Reader, Negan (Walking Dead)/Original Female Character(s), Negan (Walking Dead)/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	Your Lips, My Lips

**Author's Note:**

> someone needs to explain my hopeless, stupid crush on this man

He woke up fully when he’d realized his foot had touched something solid, something that wasn’t supposed to be there. Brief seconds of panic flooded his mind, and he sat up in his bed, the blankets falling to sit around his waist. He blinked against the darkness of the room, and saw a smaller figure curled up by his feet. He blinked again, as if he didn’t trust his eyes. He saw the figure’s chest rise up and down slowly, asleep, but skin exposed to the cool night air made the goosebumps more visible.

He shook his head, still half-asleep himself, and then he practically fell out of bed. He scooped her up from the end of the mattress and laid her down gently on the side opposite to where he would sleep, this time, under the blankets.

He was suddenly reminded of the time when she slept at the end of his bed at Sanctuary. It was the first night she spent there with him. All he wanted was a dinner date with a pretty lady from the Alexandrian crew, and maybe a cheeky tumble in the sheets if she would have allowed it. She didn’t, of course, but he had nowhere else except his own bed for her to crawl into anyway.

That particular night, he had a lot on his mind and had to stay up late working with the Saviors. Damn Alexandrians, always makin’ it tough for him. He had told her that he’d be back later and that she was welcome to make herself comfortable in his room, and to go to sleep. When he had come back from the tiresome meeting, he had found her curled up at the end of his bed, no blanket, no nothing to cover her up except the very dress she walked in with, her heels ditched on the floor. He had almost laughed at the sight of her. She’d been adamant on keeping him away from her, not giving into his control, and rightfully so.

He tucked her in beside him now, like he had done that night all those years ago. Things were very, very different now. He’d gone through injury, imprisonment, almost-redemption. He still didn’t have as many rights as other Alexandrians but since moving in with her, things started to feel… almost normal. She didn’t despise him. She came to him for comfort over past memories that she couldn’t ever forget, and that need of him from her made him feel useful, important, _wanted_ , maybe.

When he had first witnessed one of her nightmares, he had almost felt like tossing her out the damn window. But that feeling was fleeting. He wouldn’t have done that to her, of course, but it had freaked him the hell out, nonetheless. Usually, his hookups had issues, but none the screaming and hitting in the middle of the night kind. Though, she wasn’t a hookup, so it would’ve been unfair to compare the two.

That night at Sanctuary, she had woken up screaming and kicking. The sheets had twisted around her as she panicked. He remembered sitting up in a daze, trying to regain awareness of where he was, who he was. And he had watched as she fell out of the bed and slid across the hard, cool floor towards the wall. She had sat there, whimpering, her head in her hands. She had fought him when he came close, whacking him with her hands and cussing, but he had got her to calm down soon enough with a firm grip over her wrists, her legs pinned between his own, so she wouldn’t poke his goddamn eye out with all the flailing. When she had realized he wasn’t the man who had hurt her, she accepted his comfort, even if brief and forgotten come morning.

Negan thought about that man sometimes, the Governor. He sounded pathetic. Didn’t even know how to run a place properly, and wasting his time locking up some young girl, tormenting her? Doing the filthy things he did to her? Negan knew now not to be so trigger-happy but if he had ever crossed paths with a piece of shit like the Governor, he would have happily taken him out without a second thought.

He hated what he did to her. He could see the pain of it, the scars he left behind, both literally, as they decorated the skin of her arms and shoulders, neck and chest, but also emotionally. He could see it in the way she would flinch unexpectedly when he neared her, he could see it when she was gazing out in the distance with wide, horrified eyes, he could see it when she would wander the house, barefoot and aimlessly, instead of sleeping or some days when she couldn’t leave her bed at all.

She was a good fighter. She still cared for others, despite all the shit she’d been through, which amazed Negan to the core. She often expressed her worries of her not being good enough for Alexandria, and he would always shut that shit down straight away, not a second longer to waste. She was the best thing to ever happen to this place. She was the best thing to ever happen to him.

But he couldn’t ever tell her that, it would only complicate things.

As he settled back underneath the blankets, thankful he’d had the smarts to put on some pants that night, as if he had predicted this situation, he turned away from her and snuggled close to his side of the bed, closing his eyes and willing sleep to come quickly. Whenever she was near him, he couldn’t help but think of how it would feel to hold her close, kiss her mouth, feel his fingers in her hair—

He sighed into the pillow, biting back a groan of annoyance. One thought always led to another and then another and then _a_ - _fucking-other_. His Lucille always did tell him that he had a one-track mind. Boy, was she right.

He was about to close his eyes again when he felt her press up against him, her arms wrapping around him from behind so that her hands curled at his bare stomach, her face and chest pressed to the skin of his back. He held his breath against her touch, as if she might break. He relaxed a little when he realized she was fast asleep.

He knew he wouldn’t get any sleep lying with her like this, and he sure as hell wasn’t gonna just lay there all-night waiting for her to roll away from him. Though the feel of her was nice, he was getting satisfaction for the wrong damn reasons and he couldn’t be that guy anymore. Not now, after being allowed to live relatively freely within the walls, slowly gaining people’s trust. So, he carefully plucked her fingers from his stomach and draped her arms back by her sides. Then once he faced her straight on, he scooped her up again and shifted her to her side of the bed. She sighed sleepily and rolled away, curling up under the blankets that he’d tucked her under.

Negan sleepily resumed his position again, pulling the blankets up to his chin, and closed his eyes as his head hit the pillow. Surely, he’d manage some sleep soon before the damn rooster screamed for everyone to wake up.

He was beginning to feel like he’d start dreaming any second when her arm snaked its way around his waist, and the rest of her soon followed, pressed up against him as if they were lying on a single mattress rather than the double queen.

He fought the urge to yell at her by clenching his jaw. That wouldn’t do any good. It wasn’t her fault she made him feel so… awake. He sighed again and turned, so that he was lying on his back. She sleepily snuggled up under his armpit, her face resting on the top part of his chest. Her arm still lying carelessly over his stomach. One of her legs curled over his, and this was almost too much for him to handle. _Almost._

He stared up at the ceiling, eyes wide. Blinking, he tried to calm himself down. But her sweet smell enveloped him, and her damn thigh on his…

He lifted his hand to her head and hesitated. He breathed carefully as he thought it over. It wouldn’t do her any harm. He gently placed his fingers on top of her head, and he carefully ran his fingers through her hair, his short nails running softly against her scalp. He lifted his fingers to his nose and smelled her shampoo in his nails. The smell of her always incited a kind of feeling, he knew what feeling, but he always tried to suppress it. He dropped his hand and sighed again, knowing for sure that he wouldn’t get any sleep.

“Do that again,” she said quietly, her voice only just above a whisper. It cracked through the silence of the house, and through the chaotic feelings in his head.

He blinked. Had he imagined it?

“Negan?” she said, expectantly.

He carefully laid his hand on top of her head again, but this time hesitant, as if waiting for her to yell and scream at him to stop. When there was no such declaration, he repeated the action of combing back her hair with his fingers. He let the strands fall as he reached the nape of her neck, and he let out a breath he had been holding.

She sighed.

He swallowed the dryness in his mouth. What was this, nerves? He hadn’t felt this nervous over a girl since he was a fuckin’ twig-of-a-kid. He tried to shake it, “I… uh, I thought you were asleep,” he managed.

“I was,” she said calmly.

“I wake you?”

“No,” she said, simply. “I’ve been awake for a while.”

Negan tilted his head, looking at her with squinted eyes, brow pulled in tight confusion.

She looked up at him, searching his eyes.

“You been awake while I’ve practically been shoving you off me?” he finally asked, all anxiety aside. There was a faint smile on his lips and a hint of excitement in his voice. He could have shaken his head at her, she really was _one of a kind_.

She smiled a little, small. He liked it. He always liked her smile, and her frown for that matter. Both were cute in different ways. Both made him feel a little somethin’ inside. She nodded, “I was a little hurt the first time… thought maybe you didn’t want me around.”

He laughed dryly, “You _know_ that isn’t the case.”

She looked at him, amused, “Figured, you horny bastard.”

He had his arms around her now, holding her close to him. “Hey now… can’t help it when a pretty girl like you cozies on up to me.”

“You know…” she started, soft, “You know that’s not why I did it, right? I mean—”

“Don’t worry, doll. I’m just teasin’. Besides, you know my code, I don’t do shit people don’t want me to do. Simple as that.”

She nodded. “I just…” she said, slow. She sighed a little, “I just feel safe with you. And sleeping on my own… it sucks.”

He nodded. He’d never really heard that from someone before, not in a long, long while. “I get it. I hate sleeping on my own, too—” he caught the look she gave, and he protested, “not only for that reason, hon. I get lonely too, not just in the physical sense. But… having you here with me, it’s nice, right?”

She nodded.

“Good. I thought so, too.”

She frowned a moment, and Negan could tell she was thinking hard about something. He watched her with intrigue for a moment, wondering if he should just ask her straight up what’s on her mind, prompting her to confess. But she beat him to the chase.

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re attractive,” she suddenly said, cheeks pinking in color. “I think quite the opposite.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself—”

“I want to, Negan,” she interrupted, concise and clear. Firm. “Some days, I feel so scared of what you think of me. Other days, I just wanna—” she coughed, embarrassed. “Look, it’s just real complicated. I’ve known you for so long, but you were a different man once—”

“I know,” he said, nodding his head.

“And it’s not that you haven’t earned redemption, Negan, or forgiveness. I know who are, and you’re not who were in the past—”

Negan shifted underneath her, feeling an uncomfortable tightness in his chest. He sat up, so that his legs were over the side of the bed, his feet on the cold floor. His back was to her, now. He felt cold without her. But the tightness in his chest was persistent, and it confused him.

“Negan?” she asked, hesitant. “I’m sorry… I just—”

“No,” he managed, almost breathless. He clenched his fists, his fingers gripping the bedsheets. What the fuck was going on? He swallowed as if it would help open up his damn airways, but it was getting harder and harder for him to breathe properly.

He heard her scoot up behind him, her movements rustling the sheets. She was next to him, her hand on his shoulder, but he couldn’t look at her. He could barely understand what she was saying or hear the words comin’ out of her mouth. Like he was underwater. “ _Fuck_ ,” he groaned, closing his eyes against the panic.

Her hands were on his face, cupping his cheeks. He opened his eyes and met hers, right in front of his. She was kneeling on the floor in front of him, now. Her eyes were big with worry. Her lips were moving but he couldn’t make sense of it. Was she saying his name? She was. He could see it now, _Negan_. He swallowed.

“Negan—”

“I don’t know—”

“You’re okay,” she said, so firmly and honestly. “Just breathe. Breathe with me, okay?”

He nodded with his best effort.

Her hands moved from his cheeks to his shoulders, and she emphasized taking a long, deep breath. He followed. She exhaled, he exhaled. She inhaled, he inhaled. He struggled against the sweat and the racing of his heart. But it was working, slowly and surely, it was working. The tension in his chest was releasing, and his breaths were growing bigger and deeper with every try.

He felt a little shaky, but he was mostly okay. He was looking into her eyes, and he felt grounded again. “What the ever-lovin’ fuck just happened to me?”

She let out a breath, lowering her hands from his shoulders, “I think you had an anxiety attack.”

He looked at his hands. He wasn’t sure if it ever happened before. He was always a confident son-of-a-bitch and even when he was in charge of the Saviors, he wouldn’t let the nerves show. He sighed. “Fuckin’ weak old man, now,” he mumbled, still staring at his hands.

“No, you’re not,” she said, reassuringly. “I didn’t mean to cause this—”

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, gruffly. “Guess… guess you were right, sweetheart. I was a different man once. And I can’t fuckin’ let it go.” He rested his head into his hands, closing his eyes. “Wanna know why I really hate sleeping alone? ‘Coz I damn well can’t sit in silence with myself.” As soon as he had said it, he regretted it. Not because it wasn’t true, but because he was letting his guard down. He never did that with any of his wives, _hell_ , even Lucille struggled to connect with him at times and that was before everything went to shit.

He didn’t want to drive her away.

Y/N held his hands with her own, pulling them down from his face, exposing his red and watery eyes. He held her stare. He’d never shown this kind of vulnerability before, not to anyone. It was always easy to hide. Just smile or laugh and be an asshole, but he couldn’t do that to _her_. Not to Y/N.

She was still holding his hands when she pressed her lips to his, slow and careful. Not hesitant, she had made her mind up with confidence, but this was new territory for her. And for Negan.

He was surprised at first. He always joked about it, but he never thought it’d actually happen, not since Sanctuary and being a prisoner. True, he thought he could woo the pretty young thing she was, back when he was in charge, but that was back when he was stupid and selfish.

His hands left hers as they reached for her neck and jaw, kissing her back with some kind of urgency. Her fingers curled around his shirt as she moved in closer to him. She could feel the scruff of his short beard against her face as he kissed her lips, leaving a messy trail to her neck. His hands left their place and slid down her sides, lifting her up onto his lap, gripping her ass.

She held her breath at the excitement she felt, while he sucked at the skin of her neck. She’d thought over this moment countless of times. Even when he was still in the damn cage. She’d known what she felt all those years ago, but it was too much for her to properly acknowledge, it was too messed up.

Her fingers scraped at the back of his neck, crawling lazily into his dark tufts of hair. He sighed, she sighed. He kissed her mouth again and she let him, the embarrassing noise of pleasure from her lips drowned out with his own gravelly groan as he felt her heat against him. He felt good, she felt good, it was almost too much.

They both parted a moment, and he looked up at her with raw desire, a thing he hadn’t fuckin’ felt in too long, “Want me to stop?” his gravelly voice managed, barely.

She breathed out, pushing her hair out of her face. Her breathlessness only made him want her more. She swallowed, “No.” After a moment, “I want this. I want you, Negan.”

The rest was bliss.


End file.
